


In Which the Apple Tree in Eden Was in Fact A Pear Tree

by ElectraRhodes



Series: Good Omens Is An Antidote To Sad [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:35:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21936139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElectraRhodes/pseuds/ElectraRhodes
Summary: Aziraphale likes pears. And food related puns. And an excuse for indulging both. Crowley likes Aziraphale.It’s the 12 Days of Christmas Good Omens style for the 2019 Twelvetide Drabble Challenge. Featuring various Christmas foods, 6000 years of outtakes, a range of historical characters, and a recurring camel.Prompt 1: DatesPrompt 2: EggsPrompt 3. OrangesPrompt 4. HoneyPrompt 5. PomegranatesPrompt 6. ChocolatePrompt 7. ThymePrompt 8. ChestnutsPrompt 9. RosewaterPrompt 10. CinnamonPrompt 11. MarzipanPrompt 12. Cloves
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Good Omens Is An Antidote To Sad [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1537138
Comments: 27
Kudos: 44
Collections: Twelvetide Drabbles 2019





	1. Somewhere in the ancient Near East 2500 BCE

It was dark when Crowley heard rustling at the rear of the tent where he was held captive.

“Angel?”

“Just a jiffy. Got a bit tied up in some ropes. Won’t be a tick.”

There was some further muffled noise and then the sound of a blade tearing through hemp.

“You took your time.”

“Never mind all that. I’ve got the ride back.”

Together they crept across the darkened Oasis camp.

Crowley stared at the camel and sighed as he hoisted himself up, clutching Aziraphale round the middle.

“Why were you so late?”

Aziraphale passed him a hessian sack he’d hung from the saddle. Crowley opened it and rolled his eyes. 

“Never mind rescuing me. You had to save the dried fruit.”

Aziraphale popped one in his mouth and smirked,

“A date with me is always an adventure” he said hopefully.

Crowley sighed and held on tighter.

Puns. Food related puns. It was going to be a long few millennia.


	2. An Airing Cupboard in a Cottage in The South Downs C.E. 2042

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You’ve seen that cute cartoon where Aziraphale is looking after snek babies? This is what came before.
> 
> (Reference to sex when in snake form)

Aziraphale carefully mopped Crowley’s brow, if snakes could be said to have a brow that, at least, was what he mopped.

He hummed to himself a little as he watched Crowley curl up into an even tighter coil, eyes already clouded.

Of course he’d seen Crowley slough off his skin before. Every decade or so he’d have a major change in style and he’d spend a miserable period shedding his scales in his snake form.

This time though? 

He watched as a ripple spread along the sinuous line of Crowley’s back.

There were two eggs in the clutch already. And Aziraphale thought there might be at least another four to come. 

It wasn’t quite what they’d imagined when they’d, well, you know. Aziraphale bit his lip as Crowley shuddered.

He didn’t touch Crowley again but he looked at him fondly. He’d never been a papa before. Neither of them had. But, as sure as eggs were eggs they would be now.


	3. La Mancha Spain 1602

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley went drinking with a forlorn Spanish knight.

Crowley sighed as he leaned against the doorway. The man on the donkey galloped away from him followed on foot by his hastening servant.

Aziraphale wandered over and handed Crowley a slice of orange.

“Where’s he off to now?”

Crowley popped the orange in his mouth and chewed slowly. He spoke around the juice.

“Wants to slay some dragons.”

Aziraphale stared after the somewhat dishevelled knight.

“That’s a windmill.”

Crowley sighed.

“Yes, but he thinks it’s a dragon.”

Aziraphale patted Crowley’s arm as he slid past him into the small white washed house.

“I won’t say it.”

Crowley rolled his eyes.

“You better not.”


	4. The bookshop, London, a week after Armageddidnt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armageddidnt but the angels haven’t finished with Aziraphale yet.

Gabriel narrowed his eyes.

“We heard you’d shacked up with that demon?”

Aziraphale glanced between his one time boss and Uriel.

“Demon? No. Can’t think who you mean?”

Uriel frowned and leaned in closer.

“I heard you call him sugar”

Aziraphale shook his head rapidly.

“No, no, must be some mistake. Maybe I was making tea. Or coffee. Yes. Definitely a hot drink.”

Sandolphon sneered.

“Not sweet enough?”

Aziraphale laughed nervously.

When the angels had left Crowley sauntered into the room and propped himself up against the counter in the kitchen. He accepted the cup of mint tea and took a careful sip.

“Honey?”

Aziraphale nodded and twitched a small smile.

“Yes dear.”


	5. Somewhere in Central Europe around CE 1400

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oi Shem!

Aziraphale lay on his back on the grass staring up at the cloudy sky.

“Who does that look like?”

Crowley yawned. He ignored his Angel and stretched in the summer warmth.

“It looks just like Gabriel.” He paused for a moment or two. “And that looks like Sandolphon.”

Crowley opened his eyes a little.

“Is that a donkey?”

Aziraphale squinted.

“Camel.”

Crowley sighed.

“Remember those ones we tried to disguise as unicorns, to get them onto the arc?”

Aziraphale smiled,

“Didn’t one of them run away in the end?”

“Yeah. Shame really.” He paused. “Never did find out what happened to the actual unicorns.”

Aziraphale glanced at Crowley,

“They learned to swim.”

They continued to lie on their backs, still staring at the sky.

“Is that a pomegranate?”

Crowley wrinkled his nose.

“Pear.”

“I like pears.”

“I know.”


	6. A Small Cottage, Exmoor, England CE 1797

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley interrupts a crucial moment.

It was just starting to rain. Crowley hunched into the collar of his cloak. What was the point of striding across the moors looking all kinds of dashing if the Angel wasn’t there to appreciate his efforts? He sniffed. It was a bit of a bugger, that’s what it was.

Up ahead he could see his destination, a small cottage set into a fold on the heath.

He trudged forward, yeah, well, next time he wouldn’t forget his two headed coin.

When he reached the doorway he ducked a little and knocked hard.

From within he could hear a volley of swearing, followed by fast approaching footsteps.

An ink stained man with dishevelled hair pulled open the door.

“What is it? I was busy?”

Crowley tipped his hat.

“Mr Coleridge sir, I’ve come all the way from Porlock.”

The man sighed.

“Oh. Well.” He glanced back indoors. “I suppose you’d better come in then. I’ll make us a drink. I’ve got some of that chocolate?”

Crowley smiled.

“Aye, that’d be grand. Thank you.”


	7. Italy CE 1581 or Thereabouts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley decides the 16th century is just the right time to sort out the drift in the calendar.

Aziraphale rifled his fingers carefully through the papers on the desk and then glanced around the room. Crowley’s apartment was plainly furnished with just the basics. But he had some lovely drawings in simple wooden frames, and some fine brass instruments.

He looked at an astrolabe, it was dangerously fashionable. Aziraphale sniffed, there was a good chance Crowley had been egging Copernicus on. He wouldn’t put it past that whiley demon.

He stepped away from the desk when he heard footsteps on the wooden stairs in the hallway.

“Angel! This is a nice surprise. I’ve just come from the Papal apartments. Wanna see what we’re working on?”

Aziraphale’s eyebrows rose. Unusual for Crowley to be so forthcoming; despite the ‘arrangement’ they were usually a little circumspect. Unless, well perhaps this wasn’t a temptation after all.

Crowley spread a sheaf of papers across the desk. They were covered in careful calculations.

“Being a treatise on howe to bring thyme into regularitie between the dayes recorded and the sunne. Yn other wordes a newe calendar.”

Aziraphale looked at his friend.

“A calendar?”

Crowley stepped away from the desk and threw his cloak onto the bed in the corner of the room.

“Yes. It’s been driving me mad. Drifting out. It’s ten days now. These humans. Terrible on time. Space.” He waved his arms around. “The whole banana.”

“Banana.” Aziraphale muttered absently. He spoke rather louder. “Crowley, a new calendar will cause no end of confusion and consternation. It will take years to settle down.”

Crowley frowned. “It’s just maths. And a bit of science. The Pope’s keen. I thought you’d be pleased. Bit of order in the chaos.” He smirked. “Oh. I get it. You just wish your lot had come up with it.”

Aziraphale sighed. Sometimes, for all his guile and conniving ways Crowley was just a little naive.

He looked back at the calendar. Ten days. They were going to lose ten days. And Crowley looked so happy and pleased. Aziraphale shrugged, maybe it wouldn’t be so awful? 

No. He sighed. It was going to be utterly terrible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yes, it took until 1928, yes, 1928 for the whole of Europe (and the rest of the world) to adapt to the new calendar. And it makes for some interesting history when working out who had and hadn’t adopted it officially and what happened more or less when. Crowley got a commendation. And was rather miffed.


	8. The Village of Eyam, Derbyshire 1666

The children watched Aziraphale with widened eyes. One of them was noisily sucking their thumb. Later, when Crowley had put them all to bed he turned a tired face to his Angel.

“You did the coin trick?”

Aziraphale nodded.

“I did. I’m a bit rusty. But they seemed to find it entertaining.”

Crowley shook his head

“That old chestnut. I don’t know. You can do actual magic.”

They were both quiet then. 

Aziraphale sat down heavily on the sole chair and Crowley leaned against him.

“There’s nothing we can do. They’ve closed off the roads.”

“I know. We’ll just have to keep going as long as we can.”

“Think anyone will make it?”

“It’d take a miracle.”

Crowley looked at him.

“You’re not supposed to.”

Aziraphale nodded.

“Worth it though.”

No one saw the two figures leading a small party of tired children out of the village that night. Not even the children remembered the men who had saved them. Though the smallest kept a small copper coin on a cord round his neck, until its meaning, along with the names of their saviours had passed into history.


	9. Alexandria, Egypt 40 BCE

Aziraphale dipped a lace handkerchief into the rosewater. So kind of Crowley to bring it by. He tipped his head back and applied it to his throat. Alexandria was so terribly hot at this time of the year. 

There was a sound outside and he set aside the pot and pulled open the door.

Crowley, scarlet in the face, stood their panting. He had four hessian sacks hung round his neck.

“Here, take these. There’s been an accident. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Aziraphale grabbed at the bags as Crowley slung them at him. By the time he’d got them safely indoors Crowley was gone.

The afternoon saw Crowley run in and out four more times. On his final visit he slumped onto a stool and accepted a cool drink. Looking around he saw that Aziraphale had tidied all the scrolls and papyri onto the shelves.

“What happened?”

“Some of Caesar’s soldiers. Stupid really. I don’t think they meant to.”

Aziraphale nodded.

“And you brought me what you could save?”

Crowley nodded.

“I know it’s not enough.”

Aziraphale took his hand.

“You burned yourself.”

“Did I? I didn’t notice.”

Aziraphale cleaned the burn and covered it. He picked up one of the scrolls, singed at the edges and started to read. He’d always rather liked Homer.

Crowley closed his eyes and ignored the dull throb across his palm. Tried not to think of anything except his Angel’s voice, rising and falling, like a tide.


	10. Pudding Lane, London 1666

The smell of warmed cinnamon drifted on the breeze. There were other smells in there, good bread, rosemary, the scent of caramelised sugar. Crowley had to give it to the Angel he was making a go of the whole baking lark.

“Fancy a walk down by the river?”

Aziraphale dusted off his hands and hung up the apron he’d been wearing.

“Sounds lovely. I’ll just put the damper on the oven. Got a few loaves proving.”

They wandered along the cobbles in the direction of the Thames. Crowley glanced up at the street name, scratched into the brickwork at the corner. He wondered if it was Aziraphale’s idea of a gentle joke. ‘Pudding Lane’. Appropriate he thought. 

He glanced back along the street. It was a nice line of shops and houses, all wood frames and lime plaster. A bit of pargeter work too. Squashed in together. Cosy. He wondered if Aziraphale might be thinking of staying for a bit. After all that business up in the North. Having a bit of a break. He’d have to ask him later.


	11. The South Downs, a dozen years after Armageddon

Azirahphale put the plate down in front of Crowley.

“What’s this then?” He stared at the decorated cake.

“You like marzipan.”

“Ok. True enough. Why the model though?”

He admired the miniature of Eden lovingly crafted and shaped.

Aziraphale sniffed.

“It’s our anniversary.”

Crowley blinked. He looked at the cake and then back at Aziraphale.

“I thought you didn’t remember what happened before the Fall?”

He poked carefully at the tiny pear tree in the centre of the garden. There was a black and red snake curled round it. And what might have been a slightly dodgy model of Aziraphale with his hand extended, cupping the snake’s jaw. There was no sign of the sword.

Aziraphale sniffed again and muttered something.

Crowley gave him a hard look.

“Why didn’t you say?”

“I thought you’d rather I kept my mouth shut.”

Crowley shook his head. Turned out the body swop had been illuminating in more ways than one.

“Fair enough.” He paused. “Why did it get switched to an apple tree in the story?”

Aziraphale shrugged.

“I like pears.”

Crowley frowned and opened his mouth to argue. And then closed it again. Oh. Well. That was fair enough too.

“Happy Anniversary Angel. I love you.”

Aziraphale twitched a smile.

“I know.”


	12. A Soho Bookshop, A Few Weeks Before Armageddon

Crowley handed Aziraphale the small bottle.

“I told you to get that tooth looked at.”

Aziraphale fumbled with the child proof lid, an invention of hell if ever there was one, and finally upended the oil of cloves onto a wad of cotton wool. He dabbed at the gum around the premolar and tried to speak round his finger. It came out garbled but Crowley seemed to get the gist.

“Yeah. I know. But you’ve had that one for nearly three hundred years.”

Aziraphale said something again. And Crowley huffed.

“Don’t go getting yourself discorporated just because you’ve got a bit of toothache. We’ve got an apocalypse to avert.”

Aziraphale stopped prodding at his tooth.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He paused then and frowned. “But a new corporation would be an upside?”

Crowley rolled his eyes. 

“Go to a dentist.”

He hesitated.

“Think of the paperwork you’d avoid?”

Aziraphale made a noise of acquiescence and Crowley grinned. If there was one thing Aziraphale hated more than dentists it was paperwork. And he might even be able to swing it with Beelzebub as a bit of celestial tormenting. 

“Come on. I’ll make you an appointment.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my third year of the challenge, this year we’re raising money for The Environmental Defense Fund.
> 
> You too can easily contribute... either by fic or art or by sponsoring contributions, just check out the tag on twitter.


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